


Maybe This Christmas

by JanetSnakehole



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil War Compliant, DLSS2016, Darcyland Secret Santa 2016, F/M, Fakeout Makeout, Gift Fic, Oral Sex, Smut, christmas cheer, fake relationship kind of?, nurturing Bucky, santa kink if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8940979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanetSnakehole/pseuds/JanetSnakehole
Summary: After leaving Wakanda, Bucky needs a place to crash in London. Darcy has some space available.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bulmaveg_Otaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku/gifts).



> My Darcyland Secret Santa gift for @bulmaveg_otaku. I'm sorry it's so late.
> 
> Title is taken from Maybe This Christmas by Ron Sexsmith. 
> 
> I also made a Wintershock fanmix as part of the gift, not all the songs apply to this story but if you want to check it out, go here: http://8tracks.com/itsjanetsnakehole/love-burns-brighter-than-sunshine  
> (Full disclosure: I do not really get how 8tracks works so I apologize if it's wonky somehow)
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: I know nothing about gunshot wounds, medical treatment, human anatomy, London weather or architecture, basically anything. If there are factual errors or inconsistencies, just assume a wizard did it.

Alarms blaring and yellow warning lights flashing around him, Bucky flew down the corridor, crashing through a set of stainless steel double doors. Shouting guards chased after him, bullets ricocheting off the slab concrete walls. Pain exploded in his lower right abdomen, and he gritted his teeth, pressing his hand over the bullet wound as he sped up his pace. Putting more space between him and the guards, he dashed up the emergency exit stairwell, bursting out into the alleyway behind the bank building where Hydra’s small underground facility was. 

 

Clutching his wound tightly to try to slow the bleeding, he skidded across the sleet-slicked sidewalk, slowing for a microsecond to check if the guards were still pursuing him. He cursed under his breath and tried to weave himself into the crowd of bundled-up Christmas shoppers. Ducking his head lower and wishing he had brought a hat or something, he slowed his pace to blend in better with the crowds. 

 

He caught a glimpse of the Hydra guards still following him in the sideview mirror of a nearby cab. Bobbing through the hoards of package-laden shoppers, Bucky knew he was going to have a tough time losing them without either killing them (which he was really trying to cut back on) or a sudden stroke of luck. 

 

Turning the corner onto a street filled with little shops, he wondered if maybe a higher power had finally decided to cut him some slack. A homeless man in a raggedy Santa Claus outfit was propped up against the wall of a small boutique, a plastic bottle of whiskey in one hand and a paper cup full of change in the other. 

 

Bucky darted up to him, pulling a wad of cash from his jeans. “Give me your hat and your jacket,” he demanded, stuffing the cash into the coffee cup. The homeless man did a double take, looking back and forth from the slightly bloodstained money to Bucky. He gaped at him for a second before handing over the hat and shrugging out of his red and white coat. 

 

Bucky jammed the hat onto his head and slid the filthy jacket on, and paused for a second before snatching the whiskey bottle as well. He tried his best to ignore the stale vomit smell that lingered on the coat as he stood up and walked back in the direction he had come from. Taking a swig of whiskey and drooping his head down, he began to stagger slowly down the sidewalk. The Hydra guards stalked right past him, paying no mind to the homeless, drunk Santa Claus.

 

Well. That was one problem solved. But even without the immediate threat of being captured by the Hydra guards, there was still the rather pressing issue of the bullet hole in his side. Glancing around at the cross streets, Bucky knew where he should go. Granted, he had never actually been there before, but he knew the address. Any port in the storm, and all. He tucked the whiskey bottle into one of the Santa costume’s pockets, trying to keep pressure on his wound. At least the coat made it hard for anyone to notice he was bleeding. 

 

His destination was only a couple of blocks away. He checked the address, and slipped around to the back of the building. Luckily, like most of the old apartment buildings in Greenwich, there was a fire escape on the outside. He hoisted himself up the ladder, scampering across the frigid metal until he was on the landing outside flat 403. In the second great stroke of luck that day, the window was unlocked, and he slipped inside. 

 

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the room. Papers and notebooks were scattered across a large desk on which stood a number of bizarre looking machines. The workspace was by far the most lived-in part of the flat. The walls bore no pictures or art, a coffee table in front of the couch had only a single mug on it. Given the small space, Bucky found the bathroom immediately and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. 

 

A small first aid kit had the bare essentials to clean and patch up his gunshot wound. He dumped the contents of the kit onto the coffee table, pulling out antiseptic and gauze. Bucky took another slug of whiskey before pouring the peroxide onto the bloody wound. He would have liked to be able to sew the hole shut, but the gauze would have to do. 

 

Hands shaking slightly, Bucky taped up the entry and exit wounds as best he could, leaning back on the couch. A breath of relief escaped him. All things considered, his break-in to the Hydra base went about as well as could have been expected. A small bullet wound was a minimal price for the information he had collected. Suddenly exhausted, Bucky laid his head down on the arm of the couch, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

 

****

 

Bucky woke with a start, wincing as he felt his bullet wound re-open. A young woman stood on the other side of the coffee table, holding a small black canister in front of her in one hand and clutching the handle of a suitcase in the other. 

 

“I’ve never maced a Santa before, but there’s a first time for everything,” she told him calmly. “You have exactly ten seconds to explain who the fuck you are and why you are in my boss’s apartment.”

 

“You work for Thor?” he said, confused.

 

She scrunched up her face. “What? No, I work for Jane. Thor’s girlfriend.” Her grip on the mace wavered. “You know Thor?” she squinted at him suspiciously. 

 

He shrugged noncommittally. “Kind of. Not well enough to know that this apparently isn’t his place.”

 

She huffed. “Which brings me back to my original question, who are you and why are you here?”

 

“Bucky Barnes,” he waved at her with his metal hand, and the look of recognition in her eyes told him that she knew precisely who he was. “I was nearby, got into a little scrape with some Hydra agents, needed somewhere to lay low.”

 

“And you came here?! To a civilian home? Where I’m staying? Where there are no security precautions or weapons or Thors to help keep me alive if those evil Nazi bastards followed you?!” she shrieked at him. 

 

He was silent for a moment. “That actually didn’t occur to me.”

 

“I thought you superhero types were supposed to be smart!” she snapped, finally lowering the mace. 

 

“In my defense, I didn’t think anyone was going to be here. Thor’s supposed to be in Asgard.”

 

“He is. Jane’s with him, too. I’m, uh, housesitting for her while they’re off-world,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

 

He glanced around the flat. No pets. Not even a houseplant that would need watering. “You’re housesitting? This place? Let me guess, the coffee cup can’t be left unsupervised?” he gestured at the mug in front of him.

 

“Okay, housesitting might not technically be the correct term. But I can’t be at my place right now, and I knew nobody was here, so…” She looked away again, sniffling.

 

He noticed, for the first time, that her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. “Right. So. I should probably leave, then. Sorry for breaking in,” he said, standing up from the couch and hissing a little at the pain in his side. It was none of his business, really, why she needed to stay at Jane’s. But he felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach at leaving the girl, who was clearly upset about something other than the break-in. 

 

Her eyes focused on a point behind him and a gasp escaped her lips. “Is that blood? Did you bleed all over the couch?”

 

He turned around and sure enough, there was a rather sizable blood stain on the cushions where he had been sitting. “Yeah, that can happen when you get shot. Call it an occupational hazard.” He began to walk toward the door, wishing he wasn’t hobbling quite so much.

 

She gaped at him for a second before sidestepping in front of the door to block his exit. “Dude, you can’t leave if you just got shot. I’m not a doctor or anything, but I’m pretty sure having a bullet in you is bad for your health.”

 

“The bullet went all the way through, so it’s not–”

 

“Whether or not the bullet is still inside you is not the point. The point is that you recently had a bullet enter your body, and you should really not be, like, moving around and stuff.” 

 

“It’ll heal,” he protested. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot–”

 

“Look, man, I know you’re supposed to be a big, scary, former fugitive or whatever, but you need to shut up and sit your ass back down.” She pushed on his chest until he relented and fell back on the couch. She left him in the living room for a moment, and he heard the creak of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. When she came back, she handed him a glass of water and two small white pills. “For the pain,” she explained.

 

He stared at the tablets in his palm. They wouldn’t really do anything for him, with his enhanced metabolism and healing. “Why are you helping me?” he asked, looking up at her.

 

“I’m trying really hard to make it on the nice list this year, and I’m pretty sure helping gunshot wound Santa would be the clincher.” A gentle smile crossed her face, though it did not reach her sad blue eyes. “Besides, where else are you going to go?”

 

She had a point there. “Thank you,” Bucky said quietly before swallowing the pills. 

 

“You’re welcome.” She extended her hand for him to shake. “I’m Darcy Lewis. Good to meet you.” 

 

“You, too.” He paused for a moment, studying her. “You really don’t have to do this, you know. I can find somewhere else to stay.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she said, “First of all, I’m not about to kick a homeless vet in a Santa outfit, with a still-bleeding bullet hole, out of an apartment that’s not even mine to begin with, a week before Christmas. That would be some seriously shitty karma.” He opened his mouth to protest but she kept talking. “Second of all, if the fascist assholes who shot you tracked you to this apartment, I’m gonna need you to make sure I don’t die. Sound like a deal? You can sleep on the couch, and all you have to do is keep me alive in the event of a Nazi attack.” 

 

Bucky just stared up at her, impressed at her stubbornness. “Okay,” he nodded slowly. “I can do that.” Something about this tiny woman reminded him so strongly of Steve, back in their Brooklyn days. Her absolute refusal to hear the word “no,” and an appalling amount of obstinacy in such a small frame. Of course, Steve didn’t have pouty red lips and curves for days, but the similarity was there nonetheless.

 

“Wonderful. Happy to hear it.” She scrutinized him for a moment, her nose scrunching up and the corners of her lips turning down. “But if you’re going to stay here I’m gonna need you to take a shower and burn that Santa outfit because you smell downright awful and you’re covered in blood. Sorry,” she shrugged. She pointed down the hall. “The bathroom’s over there. I’ll find you some clean clothes.”

 

Bucky had thought his days of being ordered around were over, but it seemed he had been mistaken. Something about Darcy, though, made him not mind so much. Maybe it was because “take a shower” was a much more palatable demand than “assassinate this senator,” or “set fire to that embassy,” but he didn’t think that was quite it. Grabbing more gauze and tape from the coffee table, he hoisted himself off the couch and shuffled toward the bathroom. 

 

****

 

The sound of running water filled the quiet apartment as Darcy rummaged around Jane’s room, searching for any sign of Thor-sized clothing that he might have left behind. She shook her head, laughing slightly at the absurdity of her situation. Of the possible things she’d expected to find in Jane’s apartment, a recently-exonerated former assassin in a Santa Claus costume had definitely not been on the list. But, she reminded herself as she extricated some men’s clothing from the wardrobe, being friends with an actual alien prince definitely came with some weird consequences sometimes. And she’d be lying if she said that she really wanted to be by herself right now. Maybe a little company would be good for her.

 

The pipes groaned and shuddered as she heard Bucky turn the shower off. “There’s clothes outside the door when you’re ready,” she called to him through the bathroom door. She thought she might have been imagining his quiet grunt of a response, but she muttered, “You’re welcome,” anyway. 

 

Staring out the kitchen window, Darcy clutched a mug of tea in her hands, enjoying the warmth spreading into her fingers. A slight cough from behind startled her, causing her to slosh the hot liquid all down her front. “Jesus Christ, could you not do that?” she shrieked, whipping around to face Bucky. 

 

Bucky. Who was wearing a pair of Thor’s jeans, a makeshift bandage on his lower abdomen, and nothing else. Darcy’s eyes went wide, and she tried not to stare too openly at his ridiculously sculpted torso. “Tried” being the operative word. It was really hard not to ogle, and Darcy had never been great at self-control when it came to half-naked men.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was just wondering if you could, uh,” he held up the gauze and medical tape. “I can’t really do this myself…” he trailed off, turning slightly so she could see the other side of the bullet wound on his back. 

 

She flinched. It was the first time she’d seen a major injury like this, up close, in real life. It wasn’t bleeding much, but she felt woozy and nauseous just looking at it. “I have approximately zero medical experience,” she told him, eyes glued to the injury but wishing desperately she could look anywhere else. 

 

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Just tape the gauze down tight over the wound, it’ll be fine. I heal fast,” he assured her. 

 

Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, she nodded, taking the gauze from him. He turned to give her better access to his back, and she tried with every ounce of willpower in her body to keep her hands from shaking. She took one deep breath followed by another, focusing her attention on the rivulets of water trickling from the damp ends of his hair down the taut lines of his back. “Okay,” she sighed, more to herself than to him. _ I can do this _ , she said firmly in the back of her mind.

 

Darcy centered a roughly-folded rectangle of gauze over the wound, and smoothed her fingers over the tape she placed along the edges. Even with her nerves, it was impossible not to notice how warm his skin was to the touch, hard planes of muscle under the surface. If her chilly fingertips were uncomfortable to him, he gave no indication. 

 

“You okay?” he asked, turning back around to face her when she finished. She could only imagine how peaky she must look. She managed a weak nod. “Thank you,” he said firmly, taking the gauze and tape from her trembling hands. 

 

Darcy sat heavily down into one of the wooden kitchen chairs, trying to steady herself. She didn’t even notice that Bucky had left and put on the shirt she’d found for him until he sat down next to her, offering a glass of water. “Here I was, thinking I was having a shitty day,” she said, staring blankly ahead. “And then you, with your bullet hole, really put things in perspective.” She took a sip of the water, smiling without any real warmth. 

 

“Believe me when I tell you that in terms of shitty days, this doesn’t crack my top one hundred,” he told her wryly. “Just because you didn’t get shot, doesn’t mean your day was any better.” Darcy could feel his eyes searching her face without looking at him. “What happened?”

 

A hollow laugh escaped her. “It’s stupid, really.” She shook her head dismissively. “I don’t know why I mentioned it.” Finally, she looked up to meet his gaze, stormy blue eyes under brows knitted with concern. It was obvious he was waiting for her to keep talking. “Fine. I got dumped.” She wanted to just leave it at that, but brevity had never been a strong point for her. 

 

She sighed, continuing. “We were living together, and now I guess we’re not. The jackass didn’t even have the decency to break up with me to my face, either. He texted me. A text! Can you believe that shit? Out of the blue, while he’s off visiting his brother. I get up this morning, and see one new message, from Ian, just saying ‘I don’t think we should see each other any more.’ Two years together, and that’s how he ends it. No explanation. Oh, and he’s keeping our cat, which, okay, technically is  _ his _ cat, but I feed him and he totally likes me better. So, yeah, that’s my lame shitty day.” Darcy could feel her cheeks burning as she ranted, hot pinpricks of tears burning behind her eyes. Who’d have thought she’d ever bemoan her breakup to one of the world’s most dangerous assassins? Propping her elbows on the kitchen table, she held her head in her hands, hoping vaguely that the earth would just open up and swallow her, and save her from this humiliation. “I bet you’re real glad you climbed down this chimney, aren’t you?” she said sarcastically, voice muffled by her hands.

 

The sound of something sliding across the table towards her piqued her curiosity enough to lift her head. A small plastic whiskey bottle now stood in front of her, and, much to her surprise, an honest-to-god laugh bubbled out of her chest. Darcy raised it to Bucky in a silent toast before unscrewing the top and taking a sip. Savoring the warmth trickling down her throat, she watched the brief look of pride flicker across his face. She supposed Bucky hadn’t had much opportunity to practice small kindnesses over the last seventy years; she would probably enjoy it, too, if she were in his shoes. 

 

“For what it’s worth, he’d have to be a real piece of garbage to break up with a dame like you,” Bucky told her. 

 

“You don’t even know me,” she said, voice thick, trying to will away the tears she felt threatening to spill. 

 

“Don’t have to,” he shrugged. “How many other people do you know who’d let a bleeding assassin on the run from Hydra crash on their couch? You’re good people, Darcy.” 

 

Ugh. Of course he would turn out to be the sexy bad boy with a heart of gold. Darcy sniffled a little, one small tear trickling down her cheek. “Thanks, Bucky,” she said, doing her best to keep the quiver out of her voice.  

 

He swiped his thumb across her cheekbone, brushing away the tear, a smile playing at his lips. “You want me to beat up this Ian character for you?”

 

She paused, contemplating for a moment, thinking about his offer. Not thinking about the warmth spreading through her body, starting at the spot where he’d touched her. Definitely not. “I’ll get back to you on that.” She pushed away from the table, standing up. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she told him, rummaging in the kitchen cupboards. “I hope you like chicken soup, because Jane appears to be out of milk and cookies.”

 

“You’re not going to let the Santa thing go any time soon, are you?” he grimaced.

 

“Nope,” Darcy said cheerily, popping the p sound. 

 

****

 

Ten minutes later, she slid a steaming bowl of soup toward him before tucking into her own. “So,” Darcy started, blowing on a spoonful, “What exactly was your plan for after you broke in here?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Like, what were you going to do with the rest of your week before you got shot? Other than delivering presents to all the good children, of course.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “I was getting information from the London Hydra cell. The plan was to obtain the data, and make my way onto a shipping freighter headed for Mogadishu, where I’m supposed to meet up with Steve and Natasha in a couple weeks.”

 

“Steve and Natasha? As in, Captain America and the Black Widow?”

 

He nodded. “We’re working to track down the last of Hydra’s research and experiments. They did some nasty things to a lot of people, not just to Wanda and her brother.”

 

“You would know better than anyone,” she said, sympathy shining bright in her eyes.

 

He opened his mouth to reply, and closed it again just as quickly. She was right, of course. He didn’t see any point in trying to deny it. Instead he took a spoonful of soup, burning his tongue a little on the hot broth. “Yeah, well, we’re trying to find anyone else, and help them if we can.”

 

“Sounds like a very Avenger-y thing to do,” she prompted. 

 

Bucky barked out a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said dryly. “We’re not exactly card-carrying members anymore, in case you hadn’t heard.”

 

She shrugged. “Just because you’re not attending meetings at Tony Stark’s super-secret clubhouse doesn’t mean you’re not living out the mission statement. You’re out there, helping people. You don’t need the endorsement of some grotesquely rich man-child to make a difference in the world. I’ve seen how much just one person can do as a force for good. And I think you… you’re like that.” Her lips quirked up into a shy smile. 

 

Bucky stared at her for a moment, impressed by her rejection of Stark. Most of the world, as far as he could tell, was firmly on Team Iron Man in regards to the Sokovia Accords. He didn’t blame them, of course. People were scared; the attack on New York, the incident in London, and of course the Ultron debacle. People weren’t ready to place the responsibility to protect the entire world on the shoulders of a handful of freaks and weirdos. If he was just a regular guy, he’d probably want some sort of government supervision, too. But Darcy didn’t seem to think that way. It had been a long time since someone other than Steve Rogers put any amount of faith in him. 

 

The quiet that had settled over them was broken by the buzzing and chiming of Darcy’s phone, lighting up on the table next to her. Bucky saw the picture of a grinning man with messy brown hair flash across the screen before Darcy snatched the phone off the table. She froze, grimacing at the screen as the phone continued to ring. Clenching her jaw, she pressed ignore and set the phone back down, silently eating her soup as though nothing had happened. 

 

“Was that–”

 

“So Bucky,” she cut him off. “How exactly did you find out about this apartment? After the mess in Washington, the new Shield set this place up for Jane as a safehouse. Their director thought Jane might be a potential target because of all the leaked files. Nobody is supposed to know she lives here. The university sends her paychecks to a PO Box. Her own mother doesn’t even know about this place.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Then how do you happen to have a key?”

 

She smiled mysteriously. “I’m the one asking the questions, Bucky boy. How did you know about this?”

 

“Thor mentioned it. Something along the lines of: ‘James, should you find yourself in London, I would be delighted to host you for a visit.’ And then he talked about Scotch eggs for a full ten minutes.”

 

Darcy sighed, nodding. “That sounds like Thor. Well, here’s hoping he didn’t blab about it to the rest of the Nine Realms.” Her phone buzzed again, and the notification  _ One New Voicemail  _ blared across the screen. She immediately swiped to delete it.

 

“Ian?” he asked, gesturing to the phone.

 

“Not your business, Barnes,” she told him sharply. 

 

They finished their meal in silence.

 

****

 

“So, like, how long does a bullet wound take to heal?” Darcy asked him as she washed up from their meal. “For a super-Santa like yourself, I mean, not a regular person.”

 

He reflexively clutched his side, almost testing the wound. “A week or so. Less if I don’t do anything to strain it.”

 

“So you’re gonna just chill on the couch for a week?”

 

He shrugged. He didn’t really have any other plans until he was supposed to meet Steve and Natasha. 

 

“Well I hope you like Christmas movies, because I had an epic list planned to binge watch while I bake obscene amounts of cookies and make this place look like the North Pole.” She gestured around the apartment. “Jane clearly isn’t one for decorating, and I’m overflowing with Christmas cheer.”

 

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d really seen any Christmas movies. Maybe he had, before the war. But nothing stuck out. He shrugged again, and Darcy tutted. 

 

“I’m going to take that as a tacit endorsement of my plan,” she told him, turning on the tv. “How about ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ to start?”

 

****

 

It took Bucky a couple of days to realize that they’d settled into a weird sort of routine. They ate breakfast together in amicable silence, then Darcy would leave the apartment for several hours. At first, he entertained himself by fixing little things around the apartment; changing lightbulbs, tightening screws, scrubbing his own blood out of the couch. When he ran out of household chores, Bucky would spend the time alone engrossed in Jane’s research that was scattered around her workspace. When Darcy came home, cheeks pink from the cold and laden with shopping bags, she would resume her aggressively festive Christmas decorating and baking projects. Not that he was complaining. She was an excellent baker, and having as many sweets as he wanted was a luxury he’d never been able to indulge in before.

 

In the time he’d been there, she’d watched innumerable Christmas movies; he’d loved It’s A Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street. He didn't really get Elf, but it made Darcy laugh until tears were leaking from her eyes, so it was time well spent. He’d also enjoyed the over-the-top Die Hard, although he privately disagreed with Darcy’s vehement insistence that it was, in fact, a Christmas movie.

 

After a few days, his curiosity finally got the better of him. “Where do you go every morning?” he asked, as she pulled on her coat and wrapped a long purple scarf around her neck.

 

“Jane’s lab at the university. She has some ongoing tests. I just check the data, do readings, make sure everything’s working properly while she’s in Asgard.”

 

Bucky, as hard as he tried not to, perked up a little. Science had always been his favorite subject in school. “That sounds kind of interesting.”

 

She scoffed. “It’s really not. Pretty standard lab assistant stuff. I don’t even understand what I’m looking at half the time.”

 

“You’re selling yourself short. I’m sure you’re great at it. And Dr. Foster’s research is fascinating.” He held up the notebook he was reading. “She’s brilliant.”

 

Darcy cocked a brow, smirking slightly. “You’re interested in Jane’s research? You  _ understand _ Jane’s research?”

 

Bucky shrugged, trying not to let his enthusiasm show. “It’s very well done.”

 

At this, Darcy couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, do you want to come to the lab with me? There are plenty more boring calculations where those came from.”

 

“I don’t want to intrude on your work.”

 

“It’s not an intrusion, Bucky.”

 

“You don’t need me messing around in Jane’s lab.”

 

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you to come. Besides, it’s weird being there by myself. The university is totally deserted for Christmas. Kinda creepy, actually.”

 

“But–”

 

“Just shut up and get your coat.”

 

An hour later, Bucky found himself engrossed in Jane’s research, browsing through page after page of notes, while Darcy checked calibrations on the various duct taped machines around the lab. She had indeed been selling herself short, he noticed. She knew exactly how every machine worked and what they did, answering his many questions as she tinkered. 

 

“Hey, Bucky, could you do me a favor?” she asked, fiddling with a small dial on the side of one of the devices. 

 

“Sure.”

 

“Two doors down, Dr. Singh’s lab? She likes to borrow Jane’s quantum field monitor. It’s a little gray thing with yellow wires. Could you grab it for me?”

 

“You’ve painted such a vivid picture, I don’t know how I’d miss it,” he told her dryly as he left the lab. 

 

Dr. Singh’s lab was quite a bit more organized than Jane’s. It took him only a moment to notice a rectangular gray monitor with bright yellow wires sticking out the top. He pocketed it, making sure to lock the door behind him. The lock hadn’t done much to deter him, of course, but for the average person–

 

“This really isn’t a good time, Ian,” he heard Darcy’s voice, muffled by the lab doors. With his enhanced hearing, though, he could still make out every word. 

 

Bucky froze. Ian. He knew that Ian, Darcy and Jane had all worked together, but it didn’t occur to him that Ian would actually be at the lab. 

 

“I don’t care if it’s a good time, Darcy,” an accented voice replied. “You’ve been dodging my calls, and I need to talk to you.”

 

“Dodging your calls? Oh, you mean like how you refused to answer the phone after you dumped me in a text message? I don’t owe you anything, asshole.”

 

“I made a mistake, okay?” he said, and Bucky could hear the desperation in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s convenient,” she snorted. “You didn’t think it was a mistake when you broke up with me over text. You didn’t think it was a mistake when you told me you were keeping Mister Mistoffelees, who obviously prefers me anyway!”

 

“God, Darcy, this is so typical. You’re so selfish!” Ian shouted, banging his hands on a table. “The only thing you care about is yourself! And the cat, which is mine, by the way!” If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s enhanced hearing, he would’ve missed the way Ian muttered “Bitch” under his breath.

 

Bucky didn’t realize how hard he was clenching his fists until he started walking toward the lab. He couldn’t listen to this prick anymore. He wrenched open the door, the hinges creaking in protest, no plan in his mind other than making Ian shut the hell up. Darcy and Ian whipped around to look at him; Ian’s expression was one of anger and fear, where Darcy just looked relieved to see him. It was definitely the first time someone had looked relieved to see the Winter Soldier barging in. 

 

Bucky strode swiftly past Ian to where Darcy stood, leaning down to press a kiss to her mouth, and she froze for a brief moment before softening into it. Her lips slotted perfectly against his as one delicate hand reached up to cup the back of his neck, the scorching heat from the kiss travelling quickly down to his belly. Pulling away from her sent a sharp pang through his chest. “I found the monitor for you, Darce,” he said, setting it down on the lab bench next to her. Turning back to a flabbergasted Ian, Bucky put on his best fake smile. “Hi, I’m Bucky,” he said, draping his arm around Darcy’s shoulders. To his slight surprise, she relaxed into it. 

 

Ian gaped at the two of them. “Are you two– Darcy– what is this? Are you fucking this guy? Isn’t this that bloke from the news?”

 

She reached up to thread her fingers into Bucky’s, tracing her thumb gently over his knuckles. “Given that we’re not together anymore, Ian, it’s really none of your business who I’m fucking,” she told him coolly. “Especially if I’m fucking the Winter Soldier.” 

 

Bucky was half-tempted to lunge at Ian while yelling “Boo!” but the kid seemed scared enough that it was unnecessary. Ian sped out of the lab without another word. 

 

Darcy looked up at him, an enormous smile lighting her face. She turned toward him, pulling him into a tight hug. Surprised, he stiffened for an instant before hugging her back, enjoying the warmth of her arms wrapped around him. “Thank you,” she said into his chest. “That was incredibly satisfying.” She paused for a second. “The look on his face, I mean. Not the kiss.” 

 

He pulled back from the hug, raising both eyebrows at her. 

 

Darcy's cheeks flushed pink and Bucky was having a hard time suppressing a grin at how flustered she was. “Not that it wasn't a satisfying kiss. Because, uh, yeah, it was. Um. I just meant, thank you. For interrupting! Not for kissing me. Which, again, was, yeah...” she finished lamely, giving him a thumbs up and her face turning even redder. It had been a long time since he'd made a pretty girl babble incoherently, and it was nice to know he could still have that effect. 

 

“Any time, doll,” he told her, mildly surprised to realize he truly meant it. 

 

****

As they walked back to Jane’s apartment from the lab, they passed a small lot selling Christmas trees. Darcy took one look and dashed in, immediately examining the prospects while Bucky followed. This one was too small, that one was too pointy, whatever that meant. He didn’t really understand the appeal of buying and decorating a tree just to throw it out a couple weeks later, but her excitement was so catching that he couldn’t help but smile with her as she found the perfect fir.

 

She turned to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is it!” she exclaimed. She happily paid the gentleman running the operation, and gave Bucky a sweeping gesture toward the tree. 

 

“What?” he asked, confused.

 

“You’ve got that superhuman strength thing going for you, you wanna do me a favor and carry it back to the apartment?” She looked up at him, bright eyes enticing, pulling her plump lower lip between her teeth. Yeah, he had a still-healing bullet wound in his side, but saying no to that sweet face was not gonna happen. He sighed, hoisting the small tree up onto his bionic shoulder. 

 

When they got back to the flat, Darcy insisted on trying the tree out in several different locations before Bucky was allowed to assemble the stand and put it in place. “This is perfect!” she said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

 

Instead of putting yet another Christmas movie on the tv, Darcy decided to play festive holiday music while she draped the tree (which was moderately lopsided) in strands of tiny white lights. Bucky’s offer of help was refused, so he elected to watch her gleefully decorate from the couch. 

 

“I really can’t stay,” she sang along, carefully looping strings of lights around each branch. “I’ve got to go away,” she continued, singing the female part of the duet. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the music, rather singing along out of habit while she worked.

 

The song was not one Bucky had heard before, and as he listened to the words, his face contorted into an unhappy glower. Darcy looked over from her project to see him frowning to the music. 

 

“Why do you look like the Grinch just stole your roast beast?” she asked, humming.

 

“This song…“

 

“Baby It’s Cold Outside. It’s a Christmas classic.”

 

His forehead wrinkled. “It sounds like this guy is taking advantage of the woman,” he said. “Just now, she said ‘The answer is no,’ and he’s still trying to get her to stay.” He shook his head. “It’s just not right.”

 

Darcy stared at him, mouth open. “Wow. I’m impressed,” she told him, an awed smile creeping across her features.

 

Bucky tried not to be offended. “What’s impressive about taking no for an answer?”

 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she shook her head. “Just… Given the time when you grew up, I’d have expected you to have a more old-fashioned attitude about this kind of thing. Consent, and all. I mean, it’s something a lot of men today don’t seem to be able to wrap their heads around.”

 

He was silent and stony for a moment. “When you’ve had your free will taken away, the ability to say no suddenly means a lot more.”

 

Darcy’s expression crumpled. “Oh, God, Bucky. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean–”

 

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, cutting her off. His jaw tightened, and he averted his eyes, staring intently at the coffee table. 

 

Darcy sighed, setting down the strand of lights she’d been holding. Slowly, she crossed the living room to sit next to him on the couch. She waited for him to look at her, studying the tension etched on his face. Finally, he relented, turning to see the sympathy reflected in her eyes. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching for his hand deliberately enough that he could see what she was doing. Gently, she rested her palm over the back of his clenched fist. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I occasionally have a problem where I don’t think things through before I say them. Okay, maybe more than  _ occasionally _ .” A slight hint of a smile ghosted over his lips. “I mean, I had to have  _ one _ flaw, right?” she joked, relieved to see him grinning back at her, his eyes sparkling.

 

“That’s about the only one I’ve noticed,” he murmured, his gaze travelling downward from her eyes to her lips. He hesitated just for a moment, waiting for a signal from her. She nodded almost imperceptibly, and he leaned in towards her as a tiny sigh escaped her parted lips. 

 

A sudden loud buzzing startled them both, and he fished his cell phone from his pocket with a curse. Of course. Perfect timing, as ever. “What, Steve?” he snapped, standing up and walking into the kitchen. 

 

Darcy groaned inwardly. Just her goddamn luck. She didn’t want to feel such disappointment, but there it was anyway, a hot, angry pit in her stomach. She sighed, and got up to resume lighting the tree, trying not to listen too intently to Bucky’s conversation. Instead, her focus went to the way his shoulder muscles bunched, and how unfair it was that someone who could fill out Thor-sized clothing so well was all the way across the flat instead of kissing her senseless on the couch. She stared intently into the illuminated tree, telling herself that it was the brightness of the lights that was making her eyes well up, nothing more.

  
  


****

 

“So, it’s about time for you to go to work, huh?” Bucky asked in what he hoped was a casual tone, before shoveling another spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth. 

 

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Yup,” she said simply, challenging his gaze over the rim of her coffee mug. 

 

He really didn’t want to ask her if he could go to the lab again. It was embarrassing, somehow, to tag along to her job. But damned if he wasn’t fascinated with Jane’s work. Plus, he’d read all the work she had in the flat, and it was boring without Darcy around. “So, uh, I was wondering, if, uh…” he trailed off, eyebrows raised hopefully. 

 

“You were wondering…” she prompted, clearly struggling to conceal a smile. 

 

He glared, but the menacing stare of the dreaded Winter Soldier only seemed to amuse her further. “You’re gonna make me ask, aren’t you?”

 

“Whatever could you mean, Bucky?” she asked, innocent blue eyes wide. 

 

“Can I come to the lab with you again,” he muttered so quickly it barely even sounded like a question.

 

Finally, the smile she’d been fighting off spread across her face, lighting her up like the sun. “Of course you can,” she said. “I told you, all you have to do is ask.”

 

Bucky was trying not to let his excitement get the best of him as the elevator doors pinged open onto the fourth floor of the lab building. Darcy led the way to Jane’s lab, fiddling with her keys as they walked. “I just think it’s kind of adorable, is all. Like, you’re this badass, world-saving superhero, but you’re acting like a kid on Christmas morning to come to this boring–” she stopped talking abruptly, because Bucky had thrown his arm in front of her, holding a finger to his lips for silence.

 

“What?” she mouthed, brows knitted together. 

 

He nodded toward the door to Jane’s lab, which was slightly ajar. Darcy knew she hadn’t left it open, and she and Jane were the only ones with keys. Not even the janitorial staff at the university had access. Bucky pointed at her, then to the women’s restroom door across the hall, and she nodded, understanding that she was to hide in there. He crept toward Jane’s lab silently, ears pricked for any sounds coming from within. 

 

Standing to the side of the door, he shoved it open quickly with his hand, and stepped back, waiting for gunshots. Nothing happened. He peeked in through cracked door, and… nothing. The lab was just how they’d left it. Satisfied with his preliminary check, he went inside, making sure that the instruments, notebooks, computers, and everything else were untouched. 

 

“Bucky?” Darcy’s shaky voice carried through the open door.

 

He whipped around and his heart seized with fear, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. A black-masked Hydra agent had one arm tight around her throat, and a 9mm pistol jammed into her temple. Huge, terrified blue eyes pleaded for him to help her. Four other agents stood behind them, all holding handguns pointed toward him. 

 

“Soldat,” the agent holding Darcy said. “ желание .  ржaвый .  Семнадцать ,” he continued, and Bucky’s eyes went wide. 

 

“No,” he protested, putting his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Stop. Just let her go.”

 

“ Рассвет .  Печь .  Девять .”

 

“No. No!” he screamed. Darcy let out a choked cry, tears filling her eyes.

 

“ добросердечный .  возвращение на родину .  Один .  грузовой вагон .” The agent stopped, studying him warily through the eyeholes in his mask.

 

Bucky’s face went blank. “Ready to comply,” he replied, striding toward them.

 

****

 

The agent holding Darcy released his grip on her, but kept the gun pointed at her head. “Soldat. You will come with us. You are ordered to report for reconditioning.”

 

Darcy couldn’t stifle the sob as the Winter Soldier nodded, dark eyes completely devoid of the life she’d gotten used to seeing in them. Then, for a moment so brief she thought she might have imagined it, he looked right into her eyes, and suddenly Bucky was there again. Darcy felt like everything around her was both frozen and in fast forward at the same time. It was almost an out-of-body experience, really, as he simultaneously shoved her out of the way and grabbed the gun of her captor. His metal fist closed over the barrel of the gun, stopping the bullet the agent fired.

 

She scrambled out of the way and behind a heavy filing cabinet as Bucky twisted the gun that had, seconds earlier, been pressed into her head. He pulled the trigger, firing once, twice, into the chest of the lead agent. She screamed, and it felt like the sound was coming from a mile away instead of from her own body. 

 

Impossibly fast, he grabbed one Hydra agent by the throat and threw him at another, sending both of them flying into a wall. One slumped down, motionless, the unnatural angle of his neck telling Darcy he would not be getting back up. She heard two more pops of gunfire, and two more agents hit the floor.

 

“Darcy!” she heard Bucky’s voice as though it was calling to her from the far end of a long, dark tunnel. “Are you hurt?” He was back by her side, now, grasping her shoulders with surprising gentleness. 

 

She somehow managed to shake her head, eyes unfocused but locked on the still-moving form of the only remaining agent, reaching for his gun. Bucky, of course, was faster. Before she knew what was happening, a knife–where had that even come from?–had embedded itself into the agent’s hand. An anguished scream pierced through the confused fog that had settled in her mind, and she flinched as the Hydra agent writhed on the ground. 

 

“Soldat,” the agent cried. “ желание .  ржaвый .”

 

“That doesn’t work on me anymore,” he said through gritted teeth. Bucky wrenched the mask off the agent’s face just in time for Darcy to see his eyes roll back in his head, body convulsing, as white foam poured from his mouth. 

 

The edges of Darcy’s vision were starting to go dark, and her stomach churned. Grabbing for a nearby wastebasket, she heaved, vomiting her breakfast into it. Shaking, she sat up, trying to focus her eyes on a fixed point to make her head stop reeling, but it was no use. Her breathing ragged, she pinched her eyes shut, but the image of the seizing agent was burned across the inside of her lids. 

 

Eyes still closed, she felt a cool metal hand across her forehead, and Bucky’s strong other arm pulling her toward him. She clutched at his shirt, sobbing into his chest, gasping for air. A gentle hand stroked down her back, slowly calming her breathing until she felt like the world stopped spinning.

 

“Darcy.” His steady voice cut through the ringing in her ears. “We don't have a lot of time. They'll send more men.” He cupped her chin in his fingers, tilting her face up so he could study her. “You can't come back here again. They know you know me, it won't be safe.”

 

Darcy's eyes flickered around the lab, locking onto Jane's desk. She swallowed thickly, nodding. “Help me get all of Jane's stuff out. The books, and some of the instruments.” 

 

“There's no time-”

 

“Please,” she begged, voice breaking. “This is her life's work.” Tears were shining in her eyes. “She'll never forgive me if I lose it.” 

 

“Okay,” he relented, helping her to her feet. “What do you need me to do?”

 

She grabbed a box on a nearby lab table, dumping its contents on the floor with a crash. “Get all those instruments-” she pointed to the table closest to the door. “I'll get her books and the hard drives.” 

 

Bucky nodded, moving quickly. “Is there anything here with your or Jane’s information on it? Name, address, anything like that?”

 

Darcy froze for a moment, thinking. “That cabinet, third drawer down, has insurance info, tax records, stuff like that.” 

 

He yanked the drawer open, pulling out everything inside. He tossed it into the lab sink, and set it on fire with the help of the nearest Bunsen burner. “Anything else you can think of? There can’t be anything in this lab that they can use to find you or Jane.”

 

Darcy shook her head. “Nothing in here. But there are cameras in the hallways, they have plenty of video of me, and I’m on the authorized clearance lists with university security, it won’t be hard to figure out–”

 

“Give me five minutes. Get everything you need, be ready to go. Keep this with you–” he tried to hand her the gun he’d dropped earlier. 

 

She recoiled from it, her face still pale and drawn. “I… can’t.” She pulled a taser from the top desk drawer. “I’m fine with this.”

 

Bucky left the gun near her anyway, just in case, before dashing out the door. Darcy was suddenly extremely aware of just how many bodies she had been left alone with. She clenched her teeth, breathing as slowly and deeply through her nose as she could. It was nearly impossible to keep her vision focused on the computer as she worked, but she knew if she looked at any of the Hydra agents sprawled across the tile floor, she’d be right back in full-on panic attack mode.

 

Bucky came bursting back through the door unannounced, just three minutes later. Darcy screamed, whipping around to level her taser at him. “Give a girl a little warning, Barnes. I nearly tased you,” she panted, clutching at her chest. “The security footage?” she asked.

 

“Taken care of,” he told her, collecting the box of instruments she’d instructed him to salvage. “Ready?” he asked, holding his hand out to her. 

 

“What’ll happen to them?” she asked, taking his hand and hoisting the tote bag of notebooks and hard drives onto her shoulder. The warm strength of his grasp gave her the courage to look down at the Hydra agents.

 

“Hydra will clean it up. They don’t like to leave a trace. Hard to operate in the shadows when you leave bodies all over the place,” he said, leading her out of the lab at a brisk pace. 

 

She didn’t let go of his hand the whole way back to Jane’s apartment. 

 

****

 

If she’d been in a better state of mind, Darcy would’ve been surprised at how tender Bucky was toward her when they got home. As it was, though, she barely noticed the way he brought her a warm mug of tea, draping a blanket around her shoulders, and sat with her in a comfortable silence on the couch. When tears started to roll down her face again, he pulled her into his broad chest, holding her tight until the sobs wracking her body stopped. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, stroking her hair softly.

 

When the fear and adrenaline of the day finally ebbed away, Darcy felt her head begin to droop and her eyelids were suddenly too heavy to stay open. In a half-asleep daze, she vaguely registered that Bucky scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to her bed like she weighed nothing. She felt him pull the covers over her, and heard him turn to leave. “Wait,” she said sleepily, and his footsteps stopped. “Stay with me?” she murmured quietly.

 

He said nothing to acknowledge the request. For a moment, she was convinced that he hadn’t even heard her. Then, finally, she felt the mattress dip on the other side as he climbed onto the bed. His arm reached tentatively over her, and his solid warmth pressed against her back. She sighed contentedly, the protective feeling of him wrapped around her soothing her jangled nerves. His steady breath on the back of her neck lulled her to sleep. 

 

****

 

Darcy woke with a start, covered in a sheen of sweat. Her heart was pounding, and memories flooded her senses. A seizing man, foaming at the mouth. The cold press of a gun barrel into her temple. The echo of gunfire. She sat up in bed, gasping for air. She looked frantically around, the grey half-light of the room telling her it was very early morning. Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

 

Her muscles aching, she stood on shaky legs. “Bucky?” she called out tentatively, the pit in her stomach telling her that she would get no response. Darcy padded out into the living area, looking around wildly. “Bucky?!” she said again, voice cracking. Tears welled up in her eyes, the burning in her throat growing stronger as she fruitlessly searched the tiny apartment. 

 

He was gone.

 

He had left her.

 

With a heavy sigh, Darcy trudged back to bed, hot tears slipping from her eyes as she tried to drift back to sleep.

 

****

 

The incessant buzzing of her phone’s alarm cut through the hazy fog in Darcy’s head just enough to wake her. She groaned, turning the alarm off and sitting up in bed. Her head was pounding, the way it always did when she slept badly. She sniffled, her nose still stuffy from crying. Without having to look in a mirror, she knew her eyes would be puffy and rimmed with red. 

 

“Get it together, Darcy,” she commanded herself under her breath. “You knew the guy for, what, a week? And it’s not like he was gonna stick around for long. He’s got better things to do than sit around with you. People to help, good to do, all that jazz.” Darcy sighed, the half-assed pep talk not having the effect she’d been hoping for. She rolled off the bed, shuffling toward the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash some water on her tired face. She ambled into the living room and froze, a weird sense of deja vu taking hold of her. 

 

Bucky was sprawled out on the couch. But this time, he wasn’t unconscious and bleeding into a Santa costume. One arm propped up his head, and the other hand was leisurely scratching behind the ears of a sleek black and white tuxedo cat, who was purring loudly on Bucky’s chest. 

 

“What is happening right now? Is that Mister Mistoffelees?” Darcy said, unable to quite wrap her mind around what she was seeing. 

 

Bucky was hesitant to meet her eyes as he sat up, pulling the cat into his arms. He slowly approached her, the cautious way someone would walk toward a sleeping bear. “I’m sorry, Darcy,” he said simply, handing her the cat and quickly backing up several paces. 

 

Her face screwed up in confusion, but she nuzzled her nose into the cat’s fur, snuggling him closer to her chest. She’d missed the little furball. “Why? Sorry for what?”

 

Still reluctant to meet her gaze, he instead focused on the cat in her arms. “The Hydra agents. It’s my fault they came after you. And what I did to them… you shouldn’t have had to see that.” He finally looked right at her, and it broke her heart a little to see the pleading reflected in his blue-grey eyes.

 

“Okay…” she said slowly. “And why do you have Ian’s cat?”

 

He looked sheepish, an expression she never would’ve pictured on him. “I thought, maybe, you’d want him back.” A faint smile passed over his lips. “And I hoped maybe you’d forgive me.”

 

The cat started yowling and wriggling in her arms, and she set him down on the ground, holding Bucky’s gaze the whole time. “Okay,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temples. “I just want to make sure I understand what’s happening. You stole my ex-boyfriend’s cat for me…to apologize…for saving my life?” She squinted one eye open to see his solemn nod. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she told him through her laughter, hooking her hands behind his neck and stretching up on tiptoes to bring her lips to his. 

 

He kissed her back for a brief, wonderful, breathless moment before he pulled away. “Darcy, I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

 

She put her hands on her hips, giving him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Give me one reason why not.”

 

“Everything I’ve done…. Those Hydra agents–”

 

“Okay, I take it back.  _ That _ is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” She huffed out an irritated breath. “I don’t give a shit about anything you’ve done, Bucky. You’re a good person. You saved my life. You stole my ex-boyfriend’s cat for me in a misguided attempt to apologize for the aforementioned life-saving, which, while idiotic, was also incredibly sweet. You’re probably the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Do you want to make out or not?”

 

He studied her for a moment, fascinated. “You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met, Darcy Lewis.”

 

“I hear that a lot,” she said, smirking. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him defiantly. “What are you gonna do about it?”

 

Bucky had never been one to back down from a challenge. He grinned wolfishly, advancing toward her. She stood her ground, tilting her chin up, daring him to make the first move. He’d never been happier to break first. 

 

Darcy’s senses were overwhelmed as he gently cupped her chin with his cool metal fingers, and skimmed his warm lips over hers. His scent, something dark and earthy, like suede and spice, flooded her nostrils and she breathed deeply, memorizing the smell of him. The heat of his kiss was scorching, and she parted her lips to grant him better access. His teeth tugged at her bottom lip, eliciting a moan from her. He smirked at her response, and she could feel him smiling into the kiss. 

 

“Feeling pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you, Barnes?” she teased, running one hand slowly up his spine, enjoying the slight jump of muscle under skin as she did so. Her fingers raked into his thick hair, nails scratching at his scalp. 

 

“I’d rather you be feeling pleased with myself,” he replied huskily.

 

“That didn’t make any sense,” she told him, giggling, as she pressed a kiss to his chin. “But I think I know what you meant.” He was so much taller than her that she had to stand on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear, “And I am all for it.” She grazed her teeth over his earlobe, following the path with her tongue. He shuddered, and the next thing she knew, he had hooked one arm behind her thighs and hoisted her up so her legs wrapped around his waist.

 

Darcy vaguely registered that he was walking them toward the bedroom, but so much more important was the renewed fervor with which he was kissing her. Bucky’s tongue slipped into her mouth, meeting her own. Her breasts pressed into his firm chest, her nipples achingly hard against the thin cotton sleep shirt she wore. She tightened her legs around him, hoping to somehow draw him even closer. Any millimeter of space between them was too much.

 

The next thing she knew, he was setting her down next to the bed. The searing heat from his eyes seemed to flood directly to her core. Darcy fiddled with the hem of his shirt, staring up at him as she slowly lifted it up his stomach. He helped her pull it over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Her fingers traced the lines of his abdominals, skating gently over the scar tissue that had already formed where he’d been shot only a week before. 

 

Bucky grabbed her hips, pulling her back in for another searing kiss. Slowly, torturously, he skimmed his hands up the sides of her body, rucking up her oversized t-shirt as he went, exposing her white cotton panties underneath. She wriggled a little as his cool metal fingertips tickled her ribs, and was reluctant to break away from his lips for even a second to pull the shirt over her head.

 

He stepped back for a moment, hungrily studying her curves as she tugged at his hand, trying to pull him down onto the bed. Not wanting to keep his girl waiting, he obliged, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Darcy set her knees on either side of his hips, straddling him with her thighs. Their lips met once more, and Bucky traced his hands up her legs, up her ribs, up the soft underside of her breasts. Thumbing gently over her nipples, he was rewarded with another low moan. Darcy ground her hips onto his growing hardness, fisting her hands in his hair. 

 

Out of nowhere, Darcy began to chuckle to herself. Bucky sat back, breaking the kiss. “Wanna tell me what’s so funny?”

 

Humor sparking in her eyes, she tried to straighten her face and regain composure. “Nothing. I just realized that I was sitting in Santa’s lap, but, like, in an awesome Naughty List kind of way–” 

 

He cut her off by swallowing the words with his lips. “Unless you want–” he punctuated his words with a kiss to her neck, “–coal in your stocking–” he nipped at her throat gently with his teeth, “–I suggest you be a good girl–” he gently tweaked a rosy nipple between his metal fingers, eliciting a gasp from her, “–and tell me what you want for Christmas.”

 

Darcy groaned a little and rolled her hips again, trying to get some friction where she desperately needed it. “I just want Santa to come down my chimney,” she told him in a throaty whisper. He wrinkled his nose, and she laughed. “Sorry. I was trying to be sexy… it got away from me a little.”

 

“Doll, you don’t have to try,” he told her, bucking his hips up to hers so she could feel how hard he was through his jeans. He lifted her off his lap, placing her head down on the pillows so her hair spread out like a dark halo around her. She stared up at him with hooded eyes, watching intently as he unbuttoned the denim. She reached out to help push the jeans down over his strong thighs, and her eyes widened a little as his hard cock sprang free, a pearly bead of precome dripping from the tip.

 

“Ohhh, the naughty list is going to be so worth it,” she said hoarsely as he kicked off the jeans. 

 

Bucky slid up her body, his weight on top of her divine as he sucked a hot kiss onto the base of her throat. He began to work his way down her body, licking and nipping a blazing trail down her chest. Her back arched off the bed as he drew one hard nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his scorching tongue. The gasp that escaped her was brief as he continued his path down her body. The scratching of his stubble against her soft stomach was divine, and she threaded her fingers through his hair. 

 

Bucky rubbed her through the cotton panties, feeling the wetness that had soaked her center already. She mewled a little as he nosed at her clit through the damp fabric. He drew the panties down her legs and tossed them somewhere near his own discarded clothing. Darcy tightened her grip on his hair as he settled between her thighs, spreading her open in front of him.

 

He used little kitten licks at first, just teasing around her clit, tasting the earthy sweetness of her. Darcy moaned at the sensation, lifting her hips off the mattress impatiently, trying to get more of it. He pressed her hips back down, metal arm banding across them to hold her still. Finally, he licked a hot line up her center, and he heard the breath catch in her chest as he laved at her clit. 

 

“Oh, God, Bucky, yes,” she babbled, her grasp on his hair unyielding. He continued to lavish attention on her clit as he slid two fingers into her drenched core. A high-pitched keening was coming from her, and he glanced up her body to see her eyes shut tight, lips whispering a silent, ecstatic prayer. 

 

He twisted his fingers inside her, crooking them upward until he felt them graze the spot that made her thrash with pleasure. He pressed the flat of his tongue to her clit, and let her ride his mouth the way she wanted until he felt her pussy flutter and clench around his fingers. 

 

“Oh my God,” she panted through ragged breaths, watching Bucky sit up and lick his fingers clean of her taste. 

 

Darcy moved from her spot on the bed, pushing on his chest until he was lying where she had just been. She swiped her thumb over the throbbing head of his erection, smearing the pre-come over it as she took him in hand. Bucky’s hips jumped a little as she gave him a few strong pumps before straddling him with her thighs. She rolled her hips, his stiff cock sliding over her folds. She positioned him at her opening, and slowly lowered herself onto him with a wanton groan. 

 

Bucky grasped her hips, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh as she began to ride him. He met her every move with an upward thrust, and she squeezed down on his cock with her strong inner walls. Panting, she slipped one hand between their bodies to rub circles around her clit, the other hand pinching one of her nipples. The sight of her taking such pleasure from him was almost too much to bear. Darcy came again with a cry, her pussy fluttering around him. Bucky wasn’t far behind, thrusting up into her once, twice more before he spent himself in her wet heat. 

 

Their bodies still entwined, Darcy leaned down, laying her cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her heart pounding against his, as they both struggled to catch their breath. 

 

A click and a creaking noise cut through the sounds of their ragged breathing. Footsteps. Bucky sprang up from the bed and yanked on his pants, ready for action. The bedroom door swung open, as Darcy raced to cover herself with a sheet.

 

“Ah, James! How nice to see you!” Thor bellowed, beaming from the doorway as Jane appeared behind him.

 

“Darcy?!” she shrieked. “Why? What? Who?”

 

Darcy’s cheeks burned. “All valid questions, Boss Lady. But I totally have an explanation for this.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @itsjanetsnakehole
> 
> The Russian words are: longing. rusted. seventeen. daybreak. furnace. nine. benign. homecoming. one. freight car.  
> Also known as Bucky's trigger words in Civil War.


End file.
